It's taken a while
by Snap.Crackle.Cez
Summary: Basically, Scorpius and Rose fluff. Their progressive relationship throughout Hogwarts, we shall say. Sort of. Read! :D


Okay, firstly, those of you who've been silly enough to add me on AuthorAlert (though I do thank you :D), I've deleted my other stories. I didn't update very often, so I've decided to do oneshots. Hopefully, I won't let anyone down then.

Secondly, a quick one shot on Scorpius and Rose. When they first meet, how they respond to each other, and how they end together. It's nothing special, just random writings, but I do love the pairings. The first few paragraphs are gonna be the shocking, just got into Hogwarts, holy crap Harry Potter is famous, though, because at the end of book 7, it seems to me like Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny forgot to tell their kiddies.

ALSO, because I like to bore you all before you get to the actual story, this is just fluff. This isn't serious; it's just to help me ease back into writing. :D

ANYWHO, I'm not selling it very well.

Disclaimer- Not JK, unfortunately. :|

(I also sorta have to do this list, because it'll help me write it and probably prevent some confusion, for those who haven't read the 7th book in a while. Oh and there's a bit of swearing. Not a lot.)

**Harry&Ginny's Ron&Hermione DracoMalfoy&Julian Other**

**Lily- 9 Hugo-9 Scorpius- 11 Teddy Lupin- 19 **

**Albus- 11 Rose- 11 Victoire- 17 (Bill&Fleur)**

**James- 12**

**Rose**

"Why are they all _staring_?" Albus demanded, peering around, stumbling onto the Hogwarts Express, his fingers quivering with trepidation. He abruptly span around and nearly pushed me back onto the platform in his haste to wave goodbye. His sparkling green eyes were glazed with excitement.

"Don't you worry about it!" called my dad, Ron Weasley, grinning up at me like he was in a parade. Personally, I felt queasy. "It's me. I'm extremely famous!"

The laugh caught in my throat, as if pulled back by chains. A watery, ghost of a smile flickered across my face instead as I hesitantly waved back, trying to catch the tearful eyes of my bushy haired mother, but she was clutching Uncle Harry (who wasn't _really_ my uncle) like a lifeline. Her thin fingers gripped his cloak, her knuckles turning white, whilst Harry, looking bemused, patted her shoulder hesitantly. Pushing his glasses up his nose, and brushing his jet hair away from his glittering, bottle green eyes, he began to wave at us, at Al.

The train howled its departure and lurched forward, chugging along, picking up speed. My heart thumped erratically in my chest. I wanted to call out to them, to my polar opposite parents, but the platform disappeared as we rounded a corner. A lump the size of a snitch lodged itself in my throat and I choked back the wail that clawed its way into my mouth. I would never have admitted it aloud, but I was going to miss home; my frantic, organized mother, my lazy, quick-witted father, even Grandfather Weasley, with his unusual Muggle fascination.

I turned to find Albus staring at me expectantly, his rat clutched in his small, nimble hands. Disturbingly, Albus looked _exactly_ like his father; a crop of messy, nearly black hair, and piercing emerald eyes that blinked at me as if to say _'will you get a move on?_' He jerked his head down the train, towards the compartments. James had tactlessly left us. Nodding, I pushed him forward, overwhelmingly grateful I had someone to share this with.

----

Arriving at Hogwarts had been the most brilliant, most incredible thing I could've done in my entire life. I loved every moment, soaking it up, bathing in it. Everything was so dramatically magical, so spectacular; walls that moved if you asked them nicely, opening up shortcuts, or places to hide; suits of armour that kindly gave you directions, whilst others chased you, shouting curses that caused you to yelp like an injured puppy, or float, like paper in the wind, to the ceiling. Portraits yelled profanities at you if you were too rowdy. Some, like Sir Cadogan, stalked you throughout the castle.

Though, in parts of the castle, where the bricks were newer, less faded, there were no portraits. These new walls, though they were not enchanted, sprang out at you as you stumbled through the halls, bleary eyed and late for class. These walls did not need any magic to stop a student in their tracks and each time they hesitated, they recognised the sacrifice so many paid to make their liberty possible. The atmosphere change was perceptible.

In the Great Hall, along the back wall, were a list of all those who had died in the Great War. There were five columns of names that stretched to the floor, students and adults alike. Above them, a tribute to Harry Potter, their saviour.

_This wall has been erected to remember the great battle of Harry Potter and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that took place within these walls. Without him, the world would have been subjected to slavery, discrimination and torture. _

_Also, we remember those who gave their lives to fight for our freedom. We remember them as heroes_.

When I first laid eyes on it, I resented my parents. I couldn't _believe_ they kept this from me! A vital piece of history, connected so close to home. Surely to god, they would've realised something this monumental would've been included in History of Magic? Surely they would've realised that being so close to the Potter family would encourage leading questions?

And then seeing _Fred Weasley's_ name scrawled upon the wall stunned me into hating them. I had lost an uncle, George's brother, in _the_ Great War, and they hadn't thought to mention it. A relative I had dreamed of meeting had died within these walls and they chose to stay silent. I fumed at their ignorance.

I had written a very wordy letter to my mother, but it was Albus that stirred my sympathies. He had gaped, open mouthed at the plaque, as if waiting for it to break free, sit him down and explain. People had pointed at him, whispered about him to their friends but he hadn't understood. I could see him trembling. James had, thankfully, taken him to the side, the responsible older brother _for once, _and pushed him towards the group of first years.

"My dad couldn't've! He would've told me!" He muttered fervently at the Gryffindor table, his eyes wide, the whites exposed. He stabbed a chicken leg with barely contained venom. "Dad couldn't have fought You-Know-Who; he can't even do his socks by magic!"

After our fourth History of Magic lesson, I had found Albus shuddering on a step in the Entrance Hall. It was clear that the breeze weren't the cause of his convulsions, and I held him as he sobbed into my shoulder.

Professor Binns, a lazy ghost with a voice like the buzz of a bee, had told us about how Harry Potter had died during the war, had sacrificed himself to Voldemort, to his Death Eaters, only to survive. The news had me on the edge of my seat, tears dripping down my nose. _Uncle Harry...Why hadn't this been mentioned to us? _But it had been too much for Albus to handle. He high-tailed it from the classroom, though Binns continued as though he hadn't noticed. I don't think he did. Everyone else had, however. The class broke out into muted muttering.

Despite these nasty shocks, that came up now and then to bite Albus and me in our arses, I loved Hogwarts. I loved the magic of each lesson, except for Herbology, where the plants had a habit of gripping me by the ankles and yanking me towards the shaded parts of the greenhouses. Neville Longbottom, the professor, had come to my rescue several times, smiling at me softly and never reprimanding me for being so careless. It was useful having a family friend as a teacher.

I was surrounded by mob of friends, an entire house of comrades that were willing to attack and hex any student (certainly the Slytherins) who dared to trouble a Gryffindor. There were endless invites to parties; amazing, breath-taking Quidditch matches and plenty of food, sneaked into the common room by my twin cousins, Fred and Fabian.

One thing that bothered me at Hogwarts, that grinded on my nerves, was an insolent boy named Scorpius Malfoy. His sleek white blonde hair and pointed chin haunted me in my classes as we sneered and scowled at each other, our gazes intense with a feud that we had inherited.

As we sat in Professor Thomas' Transfiguration class, I felt something zoom around my face, before unceremoniously whacking me in the back of the head.

Burning red, I span around in my seat to find Malfoy smiling at me malevolently, his wand held aloft. "Morning, Weasley," he breathed, his silver eyes taunting, daring me to retaliate. I scowled, remembering my father's words _'Beat him in every test you do, Rosie.'_ He had the most arrogant face that any eleven year could possess and it infuriated me.

"Shove off, Malfoy, before I do something I _really_ regret!" I snarled, slamming my book on the table. My ears were burning, an unfortunate trait I had been given by my father and I felt as though I was on fire. This boy was so...so...so!

"Ooh, calm down, Weasley," he teased, his lip curling, "don't want that bushy hair of yours to frizz."

I glared at him, fingering my wand, my lips smacked tight together. I would not land myself in detention, I would not land myself in detention, I would not...

----

**4 years later.**

"For God's sake, Albus!" I muttered, aiming my pillow at him. He cackled at me, kicking his feet in delight. He had shot up during the summer, his limbs gangly and uncoordinated with a spray of acne marring his features. It didn't stop him flirting shamelessly with the girls and now he had jumped into teenager-hood, his confidence had hit an all time high. He was getting far too much like James, in my opinion, but he still managed to keep his sick little thoughts from me.

We sat in the best seats by the fireplace in the red and gold adorned common room, the fire dancing merrily to music we couldn't hear. It was nearing Christmas and the house elves were working their decorative magic; ivies, mistletoe, little singing angels and crackers floated pleasantly over our heads.

"It's not my fault Malfoy's mate wants to--"

"I'm not kidding, Al, I will punch you!"

"Zabini-"

"ALBUS!" I stood up, pointing my wand directly in his face, all strong angles with a hint of hair. The laughter slid from his face as if it had melted. I was a very accomplished witch, top of my class in nearly everything (_damn_ Herbology!), and I could see Albus thinking this through.

"Okay, fine," he nodded his resignation. Sighing with relief, I swooped down to pick up my book, though now my mind was buzzing. I felt as though I'd inserted a fizzing whizzbee through my ear. Liam Zabini did _not_ fancy me, he did not want to take me to Hogsmeade and he certainly wasn't getting me alone in an empty classroom.

It wasn't as if I was blind; Zabini was gorgeous with his olive skin and tilted eyes, but left a train wreck of girls in his wake, a mass of bleeding, broken hearts. I also didn't need is affection, I was happily strolling along through my teenage romances, and enjoying myself at that.

Still, the idea captivated me. I was a _wee_ bit curious, just enough to peek at him frequently through lessons, behind the hippogriffs in Care of Magical Creatures, through the powerful odours and multi-hued vapours in potions. Whenever he caught my eye, he would smile, his lips curving seductively, his eyes darkening...He was, indeed, very pretty to look at.

Nevertheless, I knew as I returned his smirks timidly, I couldn't trust him. He was best friends with Scorpius, who had made it his personal mission to spend his time bothering me. He was a nuisance; we both walked on a constant knife edge, ready to defend and respond with a particular nasty curse. Fooling around with his best friend would be like handing myself on a silver platter with a bow in my hair.

----

The breeze bit at my ankles. I knotted them tighter beneath my chair in the drafty classroom; Charms was always bitterly cold, until Professor Flitwick flounced into the room and heated it with his wand. I've always wondered why he never bothered to teach us this particular- and crucial- spell.

"Right class!" the professor squeaked, rushing into the room accompanied by a wonderful wave of heat that washed over the class. There was a collected, blissful sigh.

Flitwick perched himself on top of his desk and beamed around at everyone. A short little wizard was Flitwick, with a large pointed hat and flyaway, white hair. He raised his long, thin wand and beamed at the class. Flitwick was in his element, when he taught.

"Right, today, as it's nearly Christmas, I thought we'd so something _fun_!" He clapped his small hands together whilst the class grinned at each other; we had yet to have a dull Charms lesson.

"There are charms that are used at these festive times of year to conjure Christmas decorations," the old wizard chuckled at the sudden dubious expression the class wore, "No, no! If you'd let me finish- the spell is rather simple, not difficult, children can use them, but it can conjure any type of decoration you want! For example, _furesto_!" he waved his wand and a miniature ice carving of an angel appeared. Another wave and a singing house elf popped into existence, its voice high-pitched and quivering.

After a few tentative moments, it dawned on the class what exactly they could do. The word '_anything_' seemed to swell before them.

Flitwick beamed.

Albus smirked beside me and raised his wand. I cocked an eyebrow at the mischievous glint in his shimmering eyes, which deepened his smile.

"What're you planning?" I whispered, though the classroom was full of charming and exclamations. Miniature statues ran around, fell to the floor, others shrieking and shouting badly reworded Christmas carols. Liam Zabini had managed to produce a hippogriff the size of a Chihuahua, which Flitwick seemed to have mixed emotions about.

"Well done, Mr Zabini, but _please_, nothing dangerous…"

"You know Jordan Florence?" Albus muttered, waving his wand experimentally. "Furesto…Yeah, well, she's been a bit friendly lately and I'm enjoying her company. _Furesto_!"

A small yet stunning crystal unicorn appeared on the desk, raising its head as if trying to neigh. As it made to move, its back leg broke off. Al frowned as it tried to hobble further, but quivered and shattered. The pieces broke into a pile of snow, which began to melt.

"Bollocks."

Snorting, I flicked my wand. A toad with a wreath wrapped around its fat neck appeared. It stared at me balefully and let out a deafening…_cry_ which sounded like a note sang by a choir boy. I blinked in surprise, my face reddening.

"That's just…wrong," Albus commented, sparing a glance at my confused toad which continued to sing so beautifully that other students were pausing in their work to stare. "_Furesto_!"

Again, the unicorn appeared, but galloped off towards Jordan Florence, a petite, Ravenclaw with shiny dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. She turned scarlet but grinned all the same. Al puffed out his chest, looking pleased.

I muffled my giggle with my sleeve. Gazing around the class, I couldn't help but laugh at the stupid combinations of decorations our class had conjured. Garden gnomes dressed like fat Santas; Christmas trees that shot prickles at you; stockings that appeared to be welcoming, friendly, but tightened around your hand as you reached in; a crystal ball, where, inside it, shimmered my face…Wait, _what_?!

Scorpius Malfoy flushed a dull puce and immediately threw the ball to the ground; water spilled over the floor like blood and, throwing his wand to his desk, stared out the window.

**2 years later **

"_Hectro_!" An orange light fizzled into the wall behind me and I yelped away from it, burning with rage. I shot a curse at Malfoy who deflected it easily, his eyes gleaming.

"C'mon Weasley, I'm almost starting to think you don't _want_ to curse m-" Malfoy dived behind a statue of Dobby the Free Elf and snarled as my disarming spell caught him; his wand span off onto the floor.

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy, why can't you just leave me alone?!" I shrieked, leaning forward, my blood boiling. I had never, ever hated someone so much in my entire life. I vibrated with the urge to curse him into oblivion.

Stupid, stupid Malfoy! I had only innocently been talking with Jason Chang! Malfoy was such an intrusive git…He was so fucking fortunate I had mastered my self control. I wanted to wring his scrawny neck and snap him in two; I wanted to ram potions down his throat or lock him in a room with a confused and irritable troll…I wanted…I wanted…

"Christ, Weasley! Chill-" A red beam seared the knee of the elf. My hand was quivering so badly I couldn't aim. "It's not my fault Chang's a coward! I didn't make him run!"

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT, YOU ARROGANT TOAD!" I bellowed my voice hoarse. I was so sick of putting up with Malfoy. 5 years he had dogged my footsteps in attempts to throw me off balance and it was _pathetic_. Stupid Slytherins! "You just don't leave me alone!"

Feeling jittery with rage, but also dog-tired, I kicked his wand to the wall next to him. After a few hesitant moments, his pale hand reached out for it. It flashed back behind the statue, quick as a hummingbird. I couldn't even be bothered to curse him anymore.

"Does this mean I can come out now? I don't know about you, but I find hiding behind statues degrading."

"I don't think you can get any lower Malfoy," I spat, turning on my heel to march away. I heard Malfoy stand and brush himself down.

"I'm not my father, thanks, Rose."

The bitterness in his voice burnt me like a stinging hex. I paused, not sure whether or not I even wanted to turn around. Curiosity burning in my throat, I faced him. I hadn't meant to remind him that his father had been a coward…

"I didn't mean- I wasn't- what?"

Malfoy threw me a contemptuous glance. "Spare me. I know what you and your family think of mine."

This threw me. I knew my father's side loathed the Malfoys unashamedly, openly abusing them at home. Cowards, traitors, liars and cheats, and the Malfoys obviously regarded my family with the same amount of contempt, but they had brought it on themselves. It wasn't unjustified. 6 years Draco Malfoy taunted my parents, abused my mother, and called her Mudblood…

"We're not one being, Malfoy, we're quite capable of thinking differently." He blinked at me in surprised, so I rushed on, "But you haven't exactly been lovely, have you?"

He snorted. "Neither have you. From the start, you've been at my throat."

"Excuse me?! What a load of hippogriff shit! I- you- started it all!" I spluttered, riled with defiance.

"Actually Weasley, it was you. If you look down at someone, they tend to get a bit defensive. I was just on the offense."

"Don't lie, Malfoy. You say you know how my family hate yours, do you realise how much your father caused, even before they left Hogwarts? He probably trained you to hate Weasleys before you even got here."

He paused. "I'm not my father. And for the record, my father may not like your family, or the Potters, but he remembers that they saved his life. He's not dishonourable."

This stopped me. I chewed my lip, unable to think of anything to say. Malfoy looked just as awkward, pocketing his wand. I was confused. Malfoy had gone from being my enemy to what? To admitting he didn't? To admitting that he was tired of it all?

I sighed and went to lean against Dobby, who blinked slowly. Malfoy joined me, which set me on edge. It was an automatic reaction; I was ready for flight, to defend and attack.

"You just do my fucking head in." Came Malfoy's muffled voice as he pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no malice in his voice; it was a statement.

"Because you're so perfect," I replied, though I sounded tired. A flicker of a smile lit his face. He smirked up at me.

"Is it true Weasleys sleep in one bedroom?" He asked, his eyes sparkling. I knew I should've hexed him, but I couldn't. I knew he was kidding. Instead, I pushed him to the floor, smiling.

The library was silent, except the quick footfalls of Madam Pince's sharp heels. She bent over students work, her lips pursed, her eyes bulging, before scurrying off to scrutinise the next child.

I was studying a diagram of a chimera when I felt heavy hands on my shoulder. A thump in the seat told me Scorpius had joined me; a rare occurrence, he tended to avoid any areas where information wasn't taught by an adult.

But a quick scan of his face told me he was rattled. A gash marred his pale cheek and his nose seemed to be bruised. Sitting up straighter, I shot him a quizzical look.

"Albus…doesn't seem to like me," He eventually said after pulling a book closer to him. There was blood on his teeth. "He seemed to find it insulting when I handed you your potions book this morning." He winced. "What is it with the fucking Potters? Wand-happy or what?"

I ignored the jibe. "What'd he say?"

"Said I was a sneaky little snake, the usual Gryffindor bollocks to Slytherins," he snorted, "said I was just trying to get in your pants, just to say I could."

I flushed. I knew Scorpius didn't regard me in that way. We may have a tentative friendship, but I was still a Half-Blood Weasley.

Swallowing, I let out a short laugh. "Albus has yet to realise all men aren't like him."

Malfoy grunted. "Surprise he could get a lay. Prat."

I sighed and pulled the book I was studying closer. I knew Albus loathed Malfoy as much as I had, but I thought, after I explained to him, he would perhaps lighten up a bit, since Malfoy had towards us. Apparently, it had just incensed him more.

"What did _you_ do?" I asked lightly, after a few moments of silence.

"What? I didn't do buggar all!"

"No, I meant, after he cursed you?"

He dabbed his lips with his robes. "Told him to grow up and walked off. I find if I curse friends of friends, I tend to lose people I like." He shrugged.

I glanced at him and grinned and he smirked back. He was alright, really, Scorpius. He couldn't help the digs at the Potters and occasionally my family, but I was quick to retort. He was arrogant, almost unbearably so, but witty with a dry humour that had me snorting in an unladylike manner during potions. He was intelligent, though thought the library was for the 'freaks' that were desperate for more.

He stared at me for a moment, and then grabbed my hand, yanking me from my chair. I dropped the book with a loud _thunk. _"Malfoy-!"

Glancing around conspiratorially, he dragged me through rows of books, his hand clenched around mine. My heart thudded in my chest as we neared the Restricted Section, but we didn't go in. The lamps around us only glowed half-heartedly, as if they were neglected. They cast odd shadows across Scorpius' sculptured face. And that face was uncomfortably close.

Suddenly it clicked. And it hurt. It struck me like an angry troll. Hands on his chest, I tried to push away. My eyes stung.

"Tell me Albus isn't right," I pleaded, feeling like an idiot. I didn't want this to be true; I didn't want Al to rub it in my face, to see the understanding in my mother's eyes…

"Scorp-!"

"Tell me you don't want this," he exhaled his lips so close to mine I was breathing what he blew out. "Tell me you'd say no."

"I-Scorpius!" My voice came out breathy, high with anxiety…Please, please, please, let this not be happening. I forced my hands against him, but he didn't budge. He pushed me against the restricted gates; his body was so close to mine, a hot, solid edge.

I was gasping like a child. "Malfoy-ple-"

"No, Rose, Albus Potter isn't right!" He threw himself away from me, the gates clinking behind me. My heart thudded in my chest, weak with relief. He turned away from me, his back heaving.

A hot feeling spread throughout me, like a potion. Shame riddled me through like Swiss cheese. He must feel gutted, I thought. Literally, like his insides had been torn out. That wasn't how friends treated each other. There was undeniable lack of trust.

"I'm sorry."

"Piss off, Rose." Sharp, razor words.

"I didn't mean to…"

"To, to, what, Rose?!" He span around, his face alight, his silver eyes burning. "What didn't you mean to do? Not all Malfoys force themselves on people; it doesn't mean I can't care!"

"I know that!" I gushed hurriedly. "I'm sorry! I just thought after what you said…"

"It's what _Potter_ said!"

His words hit me like barbed wire; they whipped some anger into me. Fury was my defence. Balling my hands into fists, I glared at him. "What else was I supposed to think?! Most people don't drag their mates around libraries and chuck them against the wall!"

"Most Gryffindors and Slytherins hate each other, haven't you noticed that we've kind of disregarded tradition?"

My mouth snapped shut. It was true; many of our houses had deemed us traitors. The Gryffindor girls had made sure I knew how they felt about me; pointed conversations whilst I was around, insults scrawled on my best posts, the occasional hex on my possessions…

I toed the floor. "I just didn't know what to think."

He finally faced me, his lips turned down in a frown. I gave him a half hearted smile which he didn't return. My heart sinking, I realised I hurt him a lot more than I realised.

Then it hit me. Another lightning strike. A bulb burned inside my head. He had tried kissing me; he practically told me he wanted me, begged him to tell him I wanted him back. He had pushed me against the gates with need, not with force. But he told me Albus was wrong…

I stared at him. Really stared. He flushed in the strange lamplight, glaring at the books surrounding us. There was strange, heavy thumping in my chest…

"Scorpius…" Was all it took. His head snapped around and he closed the distance between us in two simple strides. Simultaneously he lips captured mine and we crashed into the gates behind; they shrieked under our weight, but we ignored it.

Fire burned me; my bones were melting from the electricity that was sparked by his touch. His hands combed through my hair, groped the back of my neck, pulled me closer from the small of my back. Our lips parted and crashed, like the sea lapping at the beach. We were both breathing like we had ran a marathon, my hands exploring his body, wishing his robes would let me in.

He pressed himself so close to me I could feel the contours of his body. I bit his lip, heat lashing out through my body. He moaned into my mouth, claiming my lips once more. His hands ran down my hips, over my bum, and beneath my robes. His fingers danced on my naked spine and shivered at his welcomed touch. I was gasping for air as he ducked down to nip and suck at my neck, causing my knees to quiver.

He drew in a ragged breath as I loosened his tie and my hands scrambled beneath his shirt like rats under a shelter. He was muscled, but not too toned and I melted into the feel of him. A groan escaped my lips as he ran his tongue along my collar bone.

"Scorpius…" I had meant to say it to slow us down; to dampen the fire that burned between us, but it came out throaty and begging for more. He raised his mouth to my lips, his tongue slipping in. I responded with enthusiasm, wrapping myself so close to him I almost thought we'd meld. My body tingled at his touch, I wanted to explode but I wanted Scorpius to be consumed by my fire.

"Merlin, Rose, you have no idea how long I've wanted this," He panted, his fingers tracing my ribs.


End file.
